


enjoy your spoils

by horationelson



Category: Uncharted (Video Games)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Drabble and a Half, Established Relationship, F/M, Family Feels, Fluff, Gen, Married Life, One Shot, Post-Canon, and a bad history movie, god I'm so nervous this bad, just pure fluff, or really post last chapter and pre epilogue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-10
Updated: 2017-01-10
Packaged: 2018-09-16 14:05:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9275156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/horationelson/pseuds/horationelson
Summary: Elena tried really, really hard to get some restful sleep. Her nerdy husband had other plans. Nicolas Cage was involved.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is my very first fic for the Uncharted fandom! I'm soooo nervous that it's all grossly out of character, but practice makes perfect and all that, so we'll see. I love Elena Fisher and her stupid trophy husband so much y'all. I hope I did them some sort of justice. There was no beta because I was so anxious to get it published that I wrote the last sentence and then tossed it on Ao3; thus, all errors (and there are probably many) are mine!

She'd been asleep for five hours and ten minutes, which was the longest stretch of time Elena had been able to sleep in two months. She'd gone to bed directly after dinner, leaving a half-written travel article and a bored husband behind, but one of the (many) perks of a job like hers was the ability to sleep whenever she wanted. Since being seven months pregnant didn't offer many of those opportunities, Elena was going to take them when they came, travel article and bored husband be damned.

She'd been asleep for five hours and eleven minutes before shooting awake with a groan. The sleep was so, so nice, but Elena wasn't quite willing to wet the bed. She needed to stop drinking so much tea; the baby having half of Nate's genes surely didn't help with the propensity to be as inconvenient as possible. Before getting out of bed, Elena glanced over to see that she was the only one in the room. It was still before midnight, so Nate was most likely downstairs, drawing or reading or maybe finally putting together that baby bouncer. Of course, Elena didn't have time to think about any of this, because she was shuffling through their mess toward the bathroom as quickly as she could.

Once finished, she crept back toward the bed at a much more reasonable speed. The bedroom door was ajar, a sliver of light spilling in from the hallway. Elena heard soft noises from downstairs. Probably Nate watching the news or Skyping with Sam and Sully — nothing to prevent her from going directly back to bed and hopefully sleeping until morning. She snuggled back under the covers, grabbed a pillow to shove between her legs, and closed her eyes.

And then Nate started yelling downstairs.

The first one, something along the lines of “what?”, she let go. Nate wasn't exactly the most graceful of people on the planet, so he'd probably bumped something or knocked something over. The second time, however, he yelped, “Are you serious? There's no way. No fuckin' way!” Then there was some grumbling and some soft curses she couldn't quite decipher. (They were both _definitely_  going to have to learn to watch their mouths.) He definitely didn't sound like he was dying, but there was no way Elena was going to get any more sleep with him carrying on like that. Five hours and eleven minutes it was, then.

He was sitting on their sofa, one foot pulled up and the other tapping on the floor. Her laptop was nowhere to be seen, but his focus was on the TV set. Arguing with a movie —  very Nathan Drake. Elena leaned on the door frame and tugged her sweater down a bit, watching for a second to see if her husband would notice her without her speaking, but he was too engrossed in the film. She had to give him credit: he never did anything halfway.

“Hey.”

Nate looked up at her like a kid caught stealing from the cookie jar. “I thought you were asleep?”

“I'm awake because _your_ daughter decided my bladder was a pretty good bounce house. And then—” she entered the room and pointed an (almost) mock-accusing finger at Nate, who appropriately recoiled— “I heard you screaming, at what I now see is... oh Jesus, Nate, really?”

Her attention slid to their television, where Nicolas Cage and Jon Voight were having a heated conversation about the status quo in some dark cave-like setting. She immediately recognized the movie Nate had chosen and couldn't help but roll her eyes. Of all the DVDs on the bookshelf, he picked that one?

 _National Treasure_  was a bad movie, but Elena had a soft spot for it. It'd been released right around the time her first television show was premiering, and the sudden interest in history definitely helped viewership, at least temporarily. She knew it was a mess, but it was a fun one. (Plus, that Justin Bartha was kind of cute — not that Elena had a type. Ahem.) She'd never regretting owning the movie on DVD until this exact moment; hell, she'd never been sure Nate even knew how to work the DVD player until now. At least he didn't put the disc in her PlayStation?

“You were asleep, and it has 'treasure' in the title. Of course I was gonna watch it.” Okay, fair enough, he had a point. Since Libertalia and the mending of their marriage, they'd only legally acquired treasures. They were happy doing it this way, and Elena finally believed Nate when he said it. Still, she understood the draw — especially in bad movie form. It would only be a matter of time before Nate's curiosity got the best of him and he picked up the film, and then proceeded to destroy every second of it. It was the same reason they couldn't watch _Braveheart_. Or _Gladiator_. And don't get him started on _Indiana Jones_ , as if they hadn't had their own ridiculous brush with Nazis.

Back finally protesting that she'd been standing long enough, Elena squeezed herself between Nate and the arm of the couch. It was only then she noticed one of his journals open on the coffee table: hastily scribbled notes about Templars, a timeline, and a crudely drawn sketch of Benjamin Franklin in 'x-ray specs.' She put one hand in its comfort position on her not-at-all-comfortable belly and used the other to motion at the notebook. “I take it that explains the screaming, then.”

Nate gestured at the TV and then looked at her with so much earnestness that Elena had to pinch herself to keep from laughing. God, she loved that nerd. Didn't he know no one took this movie seriously? ”The subway would have destroyed all that scaffolding, Elena. Completely.”

“You _do_  know a lot about destroying historic treasures...” It was a low blow, but Elena had to take it. She also had to giggle just a little, a combination of love and exhaustion and sheer happiness. Curling her arm around Nate's and leaning her head on his shoulder, Elena tried to focus on the movie. Who needed sleep? She knew there already wasn't much of that in the forecast for the next year, at the very least. What was another hour cuddled on the couch while her husband shouted at the screen? “I'm surprised you waited so long to take offense, honestly. The movie's almost over.”

He shrugged his free shoulder. “I was quiet.” Not something Elena had ever known him to be, like, _ever_ , but she let it go this time. “The whole premise is stupid. The stealing I obviously understand. But the secret map? Who do they think ordered the cipher? Jefferson?”

She shook her head. This wasn't a conversation Elena ever thought she'd be having, but it also wasn't the strangest. Not by a long shot. “I'm surprised Jefferson had his head out of his own ass long enough to even sign the document.” She knew with certainty that Nate was going to keep ranting, so she might as well provide a little fodder to keep it interesting. Elena could hold her own in the history discussions, especially silly ones. It was probably better that he didn't see the treasure room scene of the film, anyway, for both their sakes.

He made a considering noise before nodding sagely. “Yeah, you're right.” Hearing that _definitely_  never got old. “Hancock?”

“Too busy practicing his signature.”

“Crap. Uh. Button Gwinnett? He probably wasn't doing much.”

Elena laughed, resting her head on Nate's shoulder. Now he was getting ridiculous, but she was running out of Declaration signers too. ”That's not a real person!”

“Yes he was! Signatory from Georgia.”

“No parent in their right mind would name their child 'Button.'” The baby gave a soft kick in agreement.

Nate shifted slightly, leaving a cold spot where their bodies had been pressed together. The music in the film crescendoed, but as far as she could tell, they were the only two people in the entire world. Nate put one hand on each side of Elena's stomach, leaning in close to talk through her sweater, and made eye contact with her once before focusing on her belly again. “Don't listen to her, Button Drake. Mommy doesn't know what she's talking about.”

Rolling her eyes, Elena let out a soft little laugh at his comment. She agreed to have a child with this man. Suggested it, even! His hands were warm on her belly and his eyes filled with so much love Elena could hardly stand it. If she wasn't in such an awkward position, she would have kicked him off the sofa. As it was, Elena kissed the top of his head before he drew away. “I don't think the random guy from Georgia did it either.”

It was Nate's turn to roll his eyes. He retreated to his former position on the couch, having leaned forward to grab his notebook and pencil. “Whatever, it's all ridiculous. This movie is stupid.”

“I never would have guessed you thought so,” she teased, putting her head back on his shoulder. The movie would be over soon, and Elena would make him come up to bed with her. She'd definitely have to go to the bathroom again first, though, just in case. This was more than enough excitement for one night.

There were a few minutes of peaceful quiet, when Nate scribbled something in his journal about burials in Trinity Church. He also drew a caricature of Nicolas Cage, holding a big button with a colonial man's face on it. How were they ever going to be able to explain any of Nate's drawings to their kid? Eventually he put the pencil in the book and closed it, leaning forward to give Elena a soft, tender kiss. She had to admit, he knew what he was doing. “So...,” he began, hardly moving away from her mouth, “after Baby Button is born, can we visit New York City? Just in case?”

**Author's Note:**

> I whine and make a lot of unintelligible noises on [tumblr](http://horationelson.tumblr.com).


End file.
